


I Never Got A Chance To Say Goodbye

by Harmony_Watson



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Incredible Hulk - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: #coulsonlives, Angst, Bonding, Character Death Fix, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Gen Prompt Bingo Fill, M/M, Reunions, Siblings, Sleepovers, Team Bonding, Team as Family, Weapons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-05 18:26:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1097213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harmony_Watson/pseuds/Harmony_Watson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Battle Of New York is over, the Avengers have all moved into Stark (Avengers) Tower and are getting to know each other. But this peace is short lived. What could happen that disrupts their little corner of normal?</p><p>Filling the Gen Prompt Bingo. One prompt per chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sleep Tight

**Author's Note:**

> The Prompt will appear before the chapter. 
> 
> Get your own prompts at http://genprompt-bingo.dreamwidth.org/448.html

Prompt:Sleepover and/or Pyjama Party

 

A week after the invasion of New York, and the subsequent formation of the Avengers, the team was congregating in Stark Tower (unofficially now the Avengers Tower, but Tony would give 30 minute lectures on why it was /his/ tower if you so much as breathed that title). Bruce had been there for a week now, Natasha and Clint moving out of their spartan SHIELD quarters after they saw the floors Tony had come up with. Thor had just gotten back from Asgard, and had agreed to take the rooms offered, on the proviso Jane was allowed to visit whenever she wanted. Tony agreed immediately, and would deny having prepared the forms to hire her to SI. Steve was the only holdout, and he had eventually decided his quarters were simply too depressing for words (Tony’s phrase) and he wanted to be there with his team. Tony was very pleased with the results.

Anyway, they were meeting up in the lounge room. They had been having a team discussion, and no one seemed to want to go to bed. Eventually, Steve addressed the elephant in the room. 

“Look, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m not overly keen to go to my room alone. I’ve always had people there. Army bunks, the orphanage, my family house. Perhaps we spend tonight together?” he asked, before realising what he was implying. “Nothing inappropriate, just sleeping”. He flushed deeply. 

“I find myself equally troubled” said Thor “Being in such unfamiliar lodgings, I find myself uneasy. I would be glad to have my comrades with me to aid in a restful night’s sleep”. The rest of the team agreed, all secretly glad they hadn’t had to ask.  
“Ok Lady and Gentlemen. Go and get dressed, grab some bedding and get down here. Chop chop” said Tony, shooing them all into the elevator. 

Natasha and Clint were the first to arrive back in the lounge. Natasha was dressed in all black silk pyjamas with dark purple streaks through them. She carried a large duvet and an assortment of big fluffy pillows. Settling herself against the wall, she curled up under the blanket, silently watching the room. 

Clint on the other hand was wearing a bright purple onesie and house slippers. He had a matching fleece blanket as well as several small fluffy pillows which he arranged in a nest shape in a corner next to Natasha. Quickly looking around, he pulled a small stuffed hawk out of his pocket and set it beside him, almost covered by the blankets. He smiled and stroked the bird’s wing.

Bruce was the next, carrying a ratty sleeping bag which had several patches on it, and a pillow from his bed. He set up on the couch, curling up small, his head resting on his hand as he opened a book to begin reading. The tension was gone from his shoulders, and a small smile curled his lips. He wasn’t glancing left and right as if looking for a threat. He looked, content.  
Steve came in next with a giant pile of blankets and comforters. When the other’s looked at him questioningly, he shrugged. “I keep remembering the ice when I get cold”. Everyone nodded and went back to their previous activities. Steve set up in a spare bit of floor, laying on the floor with the blankets swaddled around him, almost completely obscuring him from view.

Thor was next. It was extremely weird to see him out of his armour, and even stranger to see him in a pair of bright pink boxers and a yellow shirt with a lightning bolt. Thor smiled at their dumbfounded looks. “The Lady Darcy purchased them for me when I told her I didn’t own anything Midgardians would consider sleep attire”. 

Tony was the last to arrive back, and he too was dressed unexpectedly. Instead of something luxurious and expensive, he was dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, which completely blanketed the glow of the arc reactor. He carried no blankets, but had a large pillow which he used to cushion his chest so the arc reactor didn’t pain him during the night. He looked around the room, taking in each of them.

“This is either the most awesome and epic thing I’ve ever been part of, or the weirdest experience of my life. I can’t decide yet” he announced. Each of them nodded, though Natasha’s was more an incline of the head.

The room settled into silence, each of them consumed with their own thoughts. Thor was thinking of the last time he had shared a room with people. His brother had been injured in a magical accident and Thor was sitting by his bedside for a week, hoping he would wake. He had barely left, sleeping right beside him. He missed his brother.

Tony was thinking about Pepper, and how she had been out of town dealing with SI business for 2 weeks now. They had skyped nightly, but he hadn’t gotten a chance to hold her, and have her hold him, for a fortnight. She was his rock, and so long without her presence had him aching for her warm embrace.

Natasha and Clint were thinking about Budapest. They were thinking of how /right/ it had felt to be next to each other, even though they had still been wary of each other back then. How they could take whatever they needed, and how both of them considered themselves to be the selfish one. They had parted the next day and barely spoken of that day. In the lounge, Natasha and Clint locked gazes and slowly they reached out to hold hands, smiling at each other. 

Bruce thought of his time on the run, sleeping in caves and in jungles, constantly alert even when asleep. It was nice to trust someone enough that he could fall asleep without keeping one eye open. Hulk trusted them too, and had slunk back to the very edge of his mind, barely making any noise at all. He relaxed into the back of the couch.

Steve, as he always was, was thinking about Bucky. Neither of them had said anything back then, but there had always been more than friendship between them. Something about surviving the Depression and fighting side by side had changed their brotherhood from platonic to something infinitely deeper and more meaningful. He hiked the blankets higher and concentrated on not thinking about how much he wanted to go back, just for a day, to say goodbye.

So involved in their thoughts, they all barely noticed the lights slowly dimming thanks to JARVIS. JARVIS kept the lights on low, as several of the residents in the room were prone to nightmares. Everyone slowly slipped toward sleep, almost no one hearing JARVIS’s whispered “Goodnight sir and madam. Sleep tight”. 

The next morning, Pepper, Jane, Darcy and Betty stood in the doorway, nursing cups of coffee and looking at the room of superheros all sleeping like babies in the living room. They moved to their respective Avenger and tucked the blankets in. Pepper to Tony and Steve, Jane to Thor, Betty to Bruce, Darcy to Clint and Natasha. All the heroes snuggled under blankets, causing all the partners to simultaneously (and very quietly) go ‘Aaaw’ 

-FIN-


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took so long. I had every intention of doing this quickly, and then life decided to sneak up on me. But I will try and get more chapters out quicker.

Written for the prompt "Winter Feasts/ Summer Barbecues and Picnics"

The next morning, the Avengers wake up slowly; sleep clouding their thoughts until their memories of the night before come back. Falling asleep together, sleeping next to each other. There’s some good natured ribbing from their various partners. Pepper teases Tony about having the bots come and sleep with them next; Jane asks Thor if this is another Asgardian custom. They weathered the storm and go to breakfast, which the partners had made. 

Steve watches from the side, almost jealous. Tony had Pepper, Thor had Jane, Bruce had Betty. Clint and Natasha had each other, with Darcy watching over both of them. But Steve, he lost the one person he cared about more than anyone 70 years before, even though from his perspective, it was only a few months. 

Bucky. James Buchanan Barnes. He could still remember his friend like it was yesterday. Half smirk, cheeky expression. Always ready for a fight, even if it was just beating up someone who made fun of Steve. Steve ached for Bucky. 

He turned away from the table, pushing his emotions back, letting him be the fearless Captain America, Man with a Plan. When he was alone in his room, he would cry, break down, throw things, beg and pray for Bucky to come back. No one else needed to see that.  
He excused himself from the table and walked into a spare room, shutting and locking the door. He sat on the table in the room, taking a deep breath before reaching into his mind, to the vault of memories he pushed back there, locked deep away where they couldn’t hurt him. He opened the vault and was assaulted by memories.

Good times, bad times, proud moments and crushing blows. Every memory he had was of Bucky somehow. Being comforted by Bucky, Bucky defending him, Staying up late talking about any and everything with him. 

Everything was covered with a haze, like trying to peer into a dim room on a sunny day.. Everything was covered in sepia, a haze of nostalgia. And the longer he watched, the more things he remembered. Things like how warm Bucky’s skin always was, how Steve had always known where he was. 

One of the things he remembered most vividly was a picnic he had had as a child. His mother had been well, he had been having a good day, they had managed to scrape together enough rations to make a go of it, and to top it off, it was the fourth of July, Steve’s birthday. So Steve, his mother, Bucky and his family had all gone to a local park. They had set out a blanket and snacks, water so they didn’t dehydrate in the summer heat. 

Steve had mostly stayed on the blanket, not wanting to sour the day with an asthma attack from running around. Still, he had had a wonderful time, chatting with his mother, relaxing in the sunshine and enjoying having something in his belly for once. If he had known what would later happen, he would have held on to his mother and never let her go. But that day had been blissful ignorance.

They had managed to find some sausages, a butcher had been robbed and was closing up shop, handing out cheap meats before he left. They didn’t have a fridge, so they had to be eaten. So on his birthday, Steve had relaxed on a blanket with his stomach full of sausage with his mother and best friend beside him, and no sickness or asthma in sight.

Eventually, Bucky had pulled him out to the playground, Steve sitting on the swing while Bucky larked around on the bars, flipping over the place. Steve had laughed when Bucky had gotten himself stuck in the bars and they’d had to guide him free. 

As the day wound on, they had made their way back to the blanket for cake. It wasn’t very big, and it was only a plane one, but it had a candle and icing powder on top, and it was the best thing he had ever seen. He had wished for more of these days in the future when he had blown the candle out. 

Eventually, they packed up the blanket and walked home. Bucky and Steve had stayed up late talking to one another, chatting, laughing until Steve’s mother, in her housecoat and worn slippers came in and ordered them into bed, a fond smile on her face. Even after, they had whispered to each other for hours.

They had never had another picnic like that one. His mother had gotten sick that winter, and hadn’t made it to Steve’s next birthday. 

Steve came back to himself, the super soldier, the elected head of the Avengers, all American icon, a nation resting on his shoulder. It was almost enough to make him crawl back into the vault, to live in his memories and never surface again, but his inbuilt sense of duty refused to let him shirk his responsibilities.

Instead, he pulled himself together, schooled his features into something resembling his normal expression and prepared himself to go back to the battle which was his life. His past was gone, and he would never get it back. No use moping. With one last look into the mirror, he went back out into the world. 

He walked into the kitchen and tried to smile. This was his team, and it was his job to make sure they stayed like that. SHIELD and the media wouldn’t deal with themselves.

And if anyone noticed the puffiness around his eyes, no one said anything. They had their own vaults they never talked about.


	3. Weapons

Prompt: Weapons. 

A few days after Steve’s private trip into the past saw the Avengers assembling. They had all been relaxing after spending the morning training together. Steve had had his sketch pad out and was sketching people, and places from his past. The only place they lived and breathed still was in his mind. Peggy smiling, Bucky cracking jokes, always a solid presence, the other Commandos and their stories, their personalities, their quirks, their annoying habits. He had to keep them alive; no one else knew them anymore. 

The team met in what had become ‘The Avenging room’. It was a room with their outfits, at least one for each of them. Clint usually wore his costume around the place, because he liked it. Natasha slithered into her costume, contorting her body in ways Steve didn't think were humanly possible. 

Tony joked about turning it bright purple, and Clint could be seen considering it, which worried Steve. Did the spy really want to be in bright purple?

The most important part of the Avenging Room is their weapons. Each of them has their own rituals for using their weapons. They all spent a few minutes with them, tuning themselves in line with the weapon. 

Natasha flexed her hands with her Widow’s Bites on, stretching her muscles and getting used to the weight of them on her wrists, the weight and how it affected her balance. Just before she was due to head out, she performed some breath-taking flips and twists, seemingly to defy gravity. She nodded at her bracelets, satisfied with their performance.

Clint just stood braced, pulling the string back and holding it, breathing deeply. He could stand for 5 minutes like that, his arms tense, his muscles rippling. He and his bow had a complex relationship. The closest thing he had ever seen that came close was when he watched that ring movie, with the little goblin stroking the ring and saying ‘my preciousss’. 

Tony’s costume was his weapon, dangerous to the point of excess. He carefully donned each piece, checking every gun, making sure every part was in perfect working order before he began putting the next piece on. His weapons were what kept him safe, his offence and defence. Sure he could evade, but his weapons were what he used to protect himself. It was a bond that ran far deeper than even Steve could guess. 

Bruce’s weapon wasn’t kept in the room, but it was still there. He usually took off the extra clothes he wanted to keep safe and placed his glasses safely down, before meditating. He sat down in a corner, crossed his legs and breathed deeply, the tension in his shoulders disappearing for a few minutes. One time, he cracked a smile and Steve asked him about it. Bruce’s answer had been sarcastic. “I was thinking I would love to have the hulk’s muscles” he said. Steve later thought Bruce might have meant he wanted to fight on his own, not the Hulk. He filed it away to look at later.

Thor was the most still, sitting silently with Mjolnir in his hands, his eyes closed. Steve had asked once what Thor did, and the answer always made him stop. “I am communing with the weapon, making sure I am worthy to wield it. Have I stayed good enough that I have kept the right to wield it? Without earning a weapon’s respect, you can never truly wield it to its greatest extent”

Steve’s weapon was his shield. He donned it with a sense of awe, every time. Tony had explained about it once, in enough detail to make Steve’s eyes cross, literally. Essentially, it boiled down to it taking the force applied to it, and reflecting it back. When Steve had said that to Tony, the smaller man had gaped for a good 30 seconds his jaw snapped shut. “That’s the best damn description I’ve ever heard” Tony had said “Ever considered being an engineer?” To this day, Steve didn’t know if Tony had been sarcastic.

Once they were all armed and ready, they gathered together. Steve started a pep talk. “Alright guys, you know the score. We’ve got incoming airborne and ground hostiles. Large targets in the air, armed to the teeth but pretty mad manoeuvrability. They might have more weapons, but we’re better at this then they are. We are the best, we have the best equipment, and we can kick them back to their mothers. Let’s go out and show them why it’s a bad idea to mess with our city”. 

There were no cheers, no back slapping and swagger. They all simply nodded and started moving to the Quinjet. Natasha took the pilot’s chair, Steve the co-pilot. The plan was for Hawkeye to bail out when they got to his predetermined ‘perch’ before sending the rest of them into the fray. Everything had been planned down to the exact location from they would put the Quinjet to how many arrows Clint had (37, any more and the quiver would be too heavy, and less and he might run out).

Clint bailed and Natasha ‘parked’ their plane. With one last glance at each other, they leaped into the battle, Steve’s shield cutting through the air, Lightning striking around them, blurs of colour as arrows whizzing overhead, Ironman flying across the sky, red, gold and pale blue mixing together in a tri coloured rainbow. Ahead, Hulk was jumping into the air, bringing down the small aircrafts from below, where they were vulnerable. He didn’t even see Natasha except for a flash of black or red occasionally, but he saw her handiwork, men spasming and falling to her Bites, knives in their chests. She was silent and deadly.

The battle was hard going, slowly pushing through what appeared to be an army. After almost two hours of non-stop fighting, Steve spotted someone bellowing orders. No time to signal any of his teammates, he made a dash for him. He caught the man by surprise, using the shield to push aside some foot soldiers so they were standing toe to toe. After a second of tense standoff, Steve lunged, and the battle for Steve began in earnest. 

After 20 minutes, they were still locked in combat. Most of the army had been defeated by his team, not having their commander giving them orders. The mysterious general’s fighting style was vaguely reminiscent of Steve’s own style, which makes them pretty evenly matched. What’s more, the stranger was strong, on par with Steve, which given the Serum was something to be considered.

Steve’s shield caught the man’s face in a glancing blow, forcing the mask up on his face. Steve pressed his advantage, catching his shield and raising it to give one last concussive blow when he saw it. A small scar of the man’s head, covered usually by hair, but the mask had swept it back. It was the exact shape and location as one Bucky had gotten in basic training when his gun had misfired. Steve looked into the strangers eyes, and saw his best friend, for the first time in 70 plus years. 

“Bucky?” he asked, hesitating.

“Steve” was the response, before the man collapsed with an arrow in his back.


	4. Siblings

Prompt: Siblings.

Steve sat outside the room in SHIELD medical, his whole carefully crafted and balanced world crumbling around him. Bucky, his best friend, his brother, was not only alive, but walking around and fighting. The last link to his past, the best thing about his old life was in the other room, having his back wound attended to. Steve had no idea how to react to this news.

Banner came out of the room. He had been the only one who was trusted to work on someone who exhibited such enhanced ability, and a lack of loyalty to SHIELD. He looked unusually grim, frowning as he carried out his supplies. Steve jumped up. “Bruce, how is… he?” he asked, unable to say his friend’s name, in case it was some sort of clone or something.

“Sit down” said Bruce, gesturing to the seat Steve had just vacated. Steve was the only person who could claim a relationship with the man. All reports said they’d been like twins, inseparable, knowing each other so well it was like talking to both of them. The absolute faith that comes from years of brotherhood, not from blood but from circumstance. 

Steve sat down, looking at Bruce expectantly. Bruce took a deep breath. “As to whether or not this is the same person you knew 70 years ago, I don’t know” he began “But I can say he’s got scars that I date are at least 30 years old, so he’s that old. I can also say he’s genetically enhanced based on the healing of the wound, so that skews my data, but I’d put his age in his late 20s”.

‘Just like Bucky’ thought Steve, frowning. “He had a scar; on his head” said Steve “I was there when Bucky, my Bucky, got that scar. Why would they give someone else that scar? And it was hidden by his hair, so it didn’t show up in pictures. 

Bruce shrugged. “I don’t know, but what I do now is that man has been through an ordeal. There are at least 5 new scars, made in the last month, in addition to the ones from the battle. I don’t know what’s going to happen when he wakes up”. Bruce shrugged again. “Until then, all we can do is wait”. 

Steve nodded. “Would it be alright... if I… went inside?” asked Steve, stumbling over his words, his mind consumed with the situation, turning it over, finding the cracks and faults, forming conclusions and, above all, hoping he might just have his best friend back. 

Bruce smiled. “Yes, of course” he said “He won’t be awake, but he might be able to hear you. If it is your fri…brother, he might appreciate it if you talked to him”. Bruce figured Steve was already considering the man family, may as well get used to it. He was almost certain this was James Barnes, from the same time as Steve, but he couldn’t be certain. 

Steve nodded and stepped past Bruce, pushing the door opening and entering the room. The man on the bed was supine, his eyes closed, he body relaxed. If it hadn’t been the face of his best friend, he would have muttered an apology (to whom? The guy sleeping?) and back out of the room. Instead, he moved forward, until he was standing next to the bed.

He stood utterly still, his eyes roving the familiar face, a face he had seen every night in his dreams, and yet not for 70 years. This was Bucky, he was certain. He had said Steve’s name, during the battle. And there was that scar, absolutely unnoticeable unless you looked for it. There was too much evidence for it, and no reason why it couldn’t be Bucky. It had to be Bucky.

A drop of water fell on the bed and Steve instinctively looked up, in case there was some leak in the room, or a faulty air conditioner or something. But the ceiling was completely dry, no drips or water marks. It took him several long moments before he realised it was his own tears, sliding down his face and dropping onto the bed.

He looked back at Bucky. He had been an only child growing up. After they found out he was so sick, they couldn’t have afforded another child, not in the Depression. They could barely afford him, and sometimes not even him. He had grown up with his parents, than just his Mom, than by himself.

Except that wasn’t true. He was never by himself, not really. Behind every moment in his life, Bucky had been there. With his family, at the orphanage, in the army, in the Commandoes. Behind ever sad moment, happy moment, every decision he made, Bucky was there. He would die before he would give up Bucky.

He gently took Bucky’s hand, looking at his face. “Please come back Buck” he murmured. “I don’t know exactly what happened, but I need you to wake up. Things are different now, you probably know that better than I do, but I need you. Not because you’re from my past, but because you’re my brother. I know we’re not related, not by blood, but I can’t live without you being my brother”. 

He looked around, making sure no one was there. “I need you Bucky. I can’t do this without you. I can’t deal with this world, not without you. Everything I knew is gone or changed. I need you back Buck, because you are the best thing that ever happened to me”.

Steve bowed his head, silently begging anyone or anything out there for help. He had been raised a catholic, but his faith had been tested. Bucky had always teased him for believing in ‘a magic man in the sky’, but Steve saw him praying every time there was a battle to be fought, or a mission to go on. 

“Bucky, please, please come back” muttered Steve. “I love you… like a brother”. He added the second bit hastily, in case someone was listening and got ideas about the two of them. There was nothing Steve would like more than to be more than that, but he would die before he made Bucky feel awkward and push him away. Better to have a brother and wish for more than to have nothing at all. 

He was so consumed in his morose thoughts he almost missed the subtle twist of Bucky’s hand, like a reflex. He looked up at Bucky’s face and found someone he hadn’t seen for 70 years looking back at him. The same face, same eyes, same nose. And when Steve lifted his head, the same smile, the one he had seen just before /the/ mission, the one with the train and the fall and the world shattering around him. 

Steve had practiced in his head what he would say, if he ever saw anyone from his past. Apologies, promises, stories to recount and laugh over. He must have laid awake for hours, practicing what he would say in this very situation. All of that however went out the window when he looked into Bucky’s dark eyes. All he could say was “Hey”. 

He could have kicked himself. He got his best friend back after 70 years, and he couldn’t do any better than ‘Hey’. He opened his mouth to say something else, something clever and worldly, something symbolic and meaningful, really anything other than ‘hey’, when Bucky grinned, just like he had when they lived in Brooklyn, making ends meet and before the war and the army and everything.

“Hey Steve” he said, and everything was alright in Steve’s world again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed or left Kudos. I love receiving the emails telling me 'You've got Kudos'. You guys and girls are awesome. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	5. Decorative when broken

Prompt: Decorative when broken.

There were many ways to break. This is the thought Steve Rogers mused upon as he sat beside his best friend in SHIELD medical. He had become very philosophical lately, at least he thought so. He doubted ‘Beef or chicken’ was really a philosophical question, but there was only so many thoughts you could have when you barely left SHIELD medical, and only then for a quick shower and a change of clothes before coming back.

Anyway, the whole world could break. Steve had watched the whole world break, and had been part of the people who helped break it and put it back together. He had seen men who held the whole world in their hands, and instead of using their power for good and making it a better place, they had used it for evil, corrupting the peace and endangering the people who populated the world. 

Countries could break. Steve had read about the civil wars in America, men with darker skin rising up and demanding acceptance, and fighting tooth and nail to get it. Steve thought those were the bravest men, men willing to fight for something they desperately believed in. He had been the same man, once upon a time. 

Cities could break. He had seen New York broken by a force beyond his comprehension. An invading army of aliens, led by a man commonly assumed to be a god and apparently orchestrated by an even more powerful being. The city had been pushed to almost breaking point, held together only by willpower and a few people who were willing to go down to the wire to save them. 

And most of all, people could be broken. Steve lived with a group of very broken people, and since he led them, he must be the most broken of all. A man lost in time, they said. He wasn’t lost, he knew exactly where home was. He knew where he wanted to go, but the path was blocked. So he was stuck in what he privately called Oz, and he would never get back to his version of Kansas, no matter how much he clicked his heels. 

Steve’s world had broken and been put back together, three times in fact. It had shattered into a thousand tiny glowing fragments, each one a memory of something, a taste, a sound, a sight when his Mother had died. The ground had been littered with glimmering shards of his life, all loaded into his bag when he went to the orphanage. 

It broke again, those pieces of beautiful memory being trampled into shining ashes, littering the ground around him when Bucky had fallen off that train, when he locked eyes with a dead man who just happened to have a heartbeat. They both knew this was the last time they would see each other, and there hadn’t been time to say anything, just enough to acknowledge the moment. 

The ashes hadn’t been trampled when he went into the ice. Instead, they had been flung, up and out of his reach, where he could see them shining, know they were there, but never would he touch and hold them again. Never again could those beautiful fragments become whole again. 

Steve had always considered himself a dancing monkey to the Army. Something to be trotted out and ordered to do a certain task, to do his duty then to be put away until he was next needed. Now he realised he was more like a shining sword, something used to cut away the evil portions of society and let the good parts thrive. But he wasn’t whole.

He was broken, he knew that. His edge was sharp because it had been snapped and shaved and clumsily pieced back together until the light glittered unevenly on his blade. 

Maybe it was appropriate he had a shield instead of a sword. You shouldn’t give sharp things to broken people. 

But as much as his world had broken, as much as he had broken, he was clinging to that world. The way he held open doors for women, kept his clothes the same, the way he nodded when someone did good, like Bruce calming himself down before he hulked out or Tony not blowing up the Tower. He wouldn’t change because society had changed. He was still the same man he was before the war, before the army, before his world had broken that first time. 

And now his world was shifting, growing bigger to accommodate one more person. The dark haired man in the bed next to him, who’s world had been broken just as much as Steve’s, possibly more. The man that Steve understood, and yet was almost a complete stranger to him. Natasha had come by and explained her connection to the man she knew as the Winter Soldier. 

There was a knock at the door. Tony came into the room, grim faced. “Steve, we have a problem”. 

Steve almost scoffed. No, of course he couldn’t have a moment with his best friend. There had to be a problem, and emergency that needed him to help solve. But he didn’t scoff, and he didn’t sigh. He just nodded, getting what he called his ‘Taking care of business’ face, after a song he heard on the radio

Tony had never been one to dance around an issue. Now was one of those times for his infamous (at least among his friends) bluntness. “Coulson’s not dead”. Steve goggled. 

“What? But… the trading cards… and the sceptre… and Loki…”. He couldn’t rationalise it. He couldn’t deal with it. It was just another problem, another thing that he needed to fix. He couldn’t do it, not right now, not when his world was barely holding together, full of shining pieces of his past, bright and sharp and ready to poke him if he got too close.

“Tony, just… give me a few minutes, ok?” asked Steve, his eyes full of begging. “Please? Just 5 minutes?” Tony nodded, leaving the room quietly. Steve put his head down to think, and so barely noticed the hand calmly moving through his hair. He closed his eyes, enjoying the moment before he realised who it had to be.

His head shot up to look his friend in the eye. “Bucky” he breathed, awed in that simple moment. Bucky was grinning at him, and some of those decorative shards suddenly disappeared, leaving only smooth memories, preserved forever. 

“Hey runt” said Bucky. “Did you miss me?” It was such a Bucky thing to say that Steve bowed his head, his shoulders shaking in silent sobs. The smile dropped off Bucky’s face. “Hey, Stevie, it’s ok” he murmured, running his fingers through Steve’s hair again. “I’m right here. Everything’s alright”

Steve shook his head, and before he could stop it, he was confessing everything. Telling Bucky everything. He hadn’t want to burden the other man, but he just couldn’t stop it. Every feeling, every situation he had been in came rushing out, leaving him exhausted at the end. He tried to apologise, to tell Bucky they were his problems to deal with, but his lips wouldn’t work all of a sudden.

“Steve, I know it’s hard” said Bucky. “I know you’ve had more pressure put on you than is right. But they wouldn’t have given it to you if you hadn’t been able to handle it. I wouldn’t have let them put more on your shoulders that you could carry. Now, you need to do your duty, because that is what we signed up for when we enlisted. To do our duty, to help others. But I will be right here, waiting for you. We will talk, and I will help you. I’m right here Steve and I’m not going away. You don’t have to do everything by yourself now”

Steve nodded, and before he could stop himself, he leaned in and kissed Bucky, deep and hard. He pulled back a second later, horrified, but Bucky just grinned that devil-may-care grin again and pulled him in for another kiss, just as Tony opened the door to check on them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys have any ideas for the story, please leave them. I would love to know if there's anything you'd like to include.
> 
> Thanks for reading.


	6. Mind Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of Bucky angst. 
> 
> A/N: Thank you to my brand new Beta, DaftPunk_d. If my writing style has changed a bit, it's because she's improved it. Without her, this fic most likely would have been abandoned to my writers block

Prompt: Mind Games  


Chapter 6  
Bucky froze as the door opened, his mind immediately screaming at him there was danger. Five seconds ago was a practical mystery as he pushed Steve away from him, his mind twisting his vision, playing with his eyes, fooling him into not recognising his best friend. All he saw were enemies, people trying to hurt him, people laughing and joking as their needles pushed into him, his veins, injecting their burning fluid that made his muscles contract painfully as their knives cut and the pain flowed through him. 

Beside him, Steve tried to move towards Bucky, but Tony stopped him. “Stay away, Cap,” He warned, “Look at his eyes. This isn’t your friend.” 

Steve looked over at Bucky’s eyes as the pupils rapidly dilated and contracted. Even though Bucky was looking straight at him, there was no recognition, no sign of his friend. It was a stranger looking back at him. 

Bucky pushed the covers away, too hot. Where was he? What was he doing here? It smelled like a hospital, was he in a hospital? Did one of their experiments go wrong? Was he finally dead? His mind conjured images around him, enemies to fight, doctors who came with drugs and knives. 

“What do I do?” asked Steve, as he watched Bucky war with his subconscious for dominance of his own mind. Bucky was was looking around the room, reaching for weapons that weren’t there and getting more and more panicked when they weren’t available to him. 

It was then that a blur of sculpted metal shot out, looking to grab something non-existent from the end table next to him. By this point, Steve was watching with barely concealed alarm, and it wasn’t until his shirt was being tugged on by a worried looking Tony that he realised he should move from his seat on Bucky’s bed. “Buck?” 

Bucky’s head whipped around at the voice, looking at Steve. There was a moment of pure silence, only interrupted by the steady beeps and clicks of the machines around Bucky. A second later however, those machines were thrown into chaos when Bucky wrenched the wirings connecting them to him from his real arm, scrambling out of bed before anyone could stop him. He held up a needle as a weapon, holding them both back until he could edge to the door, escaping through the protective guard outside his room and into SHIELD Medical property. 

 

“Well shit,” Steve said, looking at the door Bucky had just left through. His euphoria at finding Bucky, at being with him, at seeing the playful light in his eyes, all the images of fun and games in his mind crashed and burned, leaving him with the cold reality that his friend, the person he trusted most in the world, was damaged. 

And it would be a long road to getting his head back to a safe place. 

 

Steve turned to Tony. ‘We have to find him,” he said, “Not only is he dangerous to the Agents of SHIELD, the agents are dangerous to him. In his condition, he can’t defend himself.”

“Can’t defend himself?” Tony repeated, his eyes going a little wide as he glanced back at the door Bucky had just slipped out of, “He’s got a metal arm that could crush a windpipe and years of training in one of the cruelest organisations in the world. He can defend himself just fine.”

“Tony,” Steve warned, shaking his head, “He just got shot. He’s got no memories of America, let alone that he is with friends. He is a scared cornered animal trapped in his own head. He has no weapons, and no defenses other than lashing out at those around him. We need to find him and we need to find him now. Are you going to help me or just stand there and do nothing? You want to be a hero? This is the time to step up.”

Silence, for a moment, takes over the room before Tony nods, and with that the two of them set about making a plan and calling in help. 

-

In a dark corner of a supply room, Bucky sat, hidden behind some boxes of antiseptic wipes. On his run here, he had managed to grab a few supplies, including 2 syringes filled with sedative and a portable defibrillator. He’d ripped the defibrillator pads off, attaching the needles to the wires. He’d also started the machine up, electricity sparking between the tiny pieces of metal. 

“Not going back,” he murmured, his face lighting up by the sparks. “Never again.” Tucking his now deadly defibrillator under a pile of bandages, he turned to the rest of his purloined supplies. 

-

Around the corner from the supply room, a group of scientists were being given a tour. Many visiting experts from many different fields (and all with security clearances) were being told where bathrooms were and which areas were restricted to SHIELD agents only. So far they’d only gone through half the building, so the teams fascination with their surroundings was still palpable as they went. 

Just as the group had almost passed the supply closet, it burst open and the nearest scientist was grabbed, a needle held to her neck. 

“Nobody move,” Bucky growled, the needle an inch from her jugular. “Or I’ll kill her.” The rest of the tourists had scrambled away, leaving the pair in a wide circle. “If anyone stops us, she dies,” he said, backing up. 

As the woman was dragged away from the group, the rest of the team arrived on the scene. “Okay people, nothing to see here,” called Tony as they made their way through the crowd. Everything looked like it might be getting under control.

At least, until Bruce spotted the hostage. 

“Betty!” He started immediately, his eyes widening, there was no pause before his skin started turning green, his muscles expanding. Tony went from ‘charming and witty’ to ‘you all need to get the fuck back now’ nigh instantaneously, shooing back the crowd. Between Tony caustic comments at stragglers and Steve’s sheer mass pressing them back, the hallway was soon deserted. “He has Betty,” A now contorted voice started to spill out. 

It wasn’t long before there was a mass of pure muscle and hatred was standing in the hallway, held back by a single billionaire with upraised hands.

Tony came over to Hulk slowly, who was obviously furious but had learned some control. Seeing Betty wide eyed and visibly shaken in the hands of a cold blooded killer was enough to cause him to start pushing towards them, causing the needle to inch closer to her neck. “If you attack now, she could get hurt,” Tony tried to point out, even as there was a huff from the Hulk, who tried to take a step forward. When he was nearly brushed off, Tony restated, stepping in time with him, “Move, and he’ll kill her. Just stop for a second, big guy.”

That stopped Hulk cold. “Hulk get Betty hurt?” he asked, obviously struggling with complex words. Actions were his specialty, like words were for Bruce. Dark and light, only manifested in two beings instead of the usual intermingling. 

In his sight, he could see Betty nodding anxiously, her shoes pushed onto their tips as she struggled to reach the floor.

“Yeah big guy, she could get hurt,” said Tony, “Just let us try first.” After turning away from Hulk, Tony moved towards Bucky, still holding his hands up. “Look, I know you need to escape, but hurting her won’t do anything. It will just make people more determined to catch you. She’s innocent, she hasn’t done anything, and nobody here is gonna hurt you, alright?”  
Tony could see his words just might be affecting Bucky a little. Just as the needle slowly started to move away from her neck, a door on the side of the hall opened, spilling agents out. Bucky jumped away and, in the process, caused lightening to release. At such proximity, there could only be one target. 

Betty slumped to the ground, not moving. Whatever had caused the Hulk to stay back snapped, and he charged forward, intent on doing damage to the man who attacked Betty. Tony turned around holding his hands out. “Hulk, stop!” he said, only to be batted aside like a fly in Australia, his back meeting the wall loudly. 

Hulk charged forward, his hands outstretched to rip, grab, SMASH when something hit him from behind. Hulk turned, just in time to watch a spinning red white and blue disk hit him in the shoulder again. He roared, spinning on heel and changing targets. 

Steve raised his shield, using it to deflect massive blows from giant green hands. He managed to land a few punches, but nothing that would seriously damage the Hulk’s resistant skin. In a sudden move Steve was pinned down on the floor, one massive green hand on top of the shield. Hulk pulled his free fist back for a final punch. 

As his hand started to come down, it was stopped. Hulk looked around, noticing a small spec of silver restraining his arm. He tried to shake it off, only to find it attached to a person. The Hulk fought, but the man with the silver arm was strong enough to hold him off. 

“Buck!” Steve grunts out, one of the Hulk’s fists still connected with his shield and pinning him to the floor. His legs kicked futilely, considering that it wasn’t often he got pinned, as he watched his best friend take a step forward, towards the towering giant, “Bucky, don’t!”

The pressure on his chest ceased immediately as the Hulk’s hand swung, off of the patriotic shield and in uncontrolled haymaker, aimed directly for Bucky’s head. 

It was a team effort, what came next; While a metal hand shot out to connect with and jarr the Hulk’s moving fist, Steve’s feet kicked out, meeting with the green calves in front of him. The end result was the mass of anger crashing to the floor, Steve having to shove away from the stark white tiling of the floor just to stand. He nearly stumbled, before a hand shot out, grabbing him and holding him steady. 

“Who are you?” croaked Bucky, looking up at Steve. “And who am I?” Steve smiled as he gave a relieved sigh, seeing that Bucky was the one still watching out for him even when he was out of his right mind. Just like his old friend. Standing up fully, he watched as the brunet carefully let go of Steve’s shirt, still looking suspicious, before leading Bucky back to his room. 

“That is a very interesting question,” the blond started, “It could take a while to explain.” The two wounded warriors walked around the corner, leaving Tony standing watching, and the Hulk shrinking down to Bruce again. Betty started to come around. “What happened?” she said, holding her head. 

Bruce and Tony shook their heads. ‘Don’t ask. It will mess with your mind,” said Tony.


End file.
